Breaking Point
by SunlightOnTheWater
Summary: Secretary of State Anthony Hedges has been assassinated and blame has been placed squarely on the chest of public enemy number one, Jason Bourne. To improve Autobot/human relations the case lands squarely in the lap of Captain Will Lennox, throwing the Autobots into a race against time to discover the truth.
1. Chapter 1

**1145 hours-Washington DC, White House**

Secretary of State Anthony Hedges was working late. He had bid the president goodnight close to four hours ago and then settled in at his office to finish up the excessive amount of paperwork that the Egyptian Incident, Case File #1145, had resulted in. He was all but knee deep in paperwork when there came a knock at the door and one of the guards stuck his head in. "CIA Agent Pamela Landy to see you sir," the man said, startling Hedges out of his work.

"Let her in," he said, shoving round, wire rimmed glasses up his nose. CIA Agent Pamela Landy was in her late thirties with long blonde hair pulled back in a neat bun. Her heels clicked through the thin carpet and despite the crispness of her black dress suit she looked tired. "Sit down," Hedges urged gently, motioning to the chair across from his desk. Landy hesitated for a moment and then sat, placing three files neatly on his desk. "I take it these are your recommendations.

"Yes," Pamela Landy said with a crisp nod. Hedges pulled the files toward him and flipped open the first one. He smiled wryly at the picture gazing coldly up at him, unsurprised by the suggestion. "It only seems fitting since we've caused him so much hurt," Landy added as he gazed at the picture.

"You're right, of course," Hedges replied. "I'll look over your selections and get them cleared within forty-eight hours."

"Thank you," Landy replied, standing, and Hedges smiled at her. Over the past four months Pamela Landy had upset the food chain in Washington, bringing terrible deeds done right under their noses to light and working to clear public enemy number one. Hedges had pegged Landy as a hard hitter right from the start, not making the mistake many other politicians did by assuming she would be satisfied with week assurances and shoved aside. Landy would give up her job to tell the world the truth; the reason why Hedges had become Landy's ally.

Their current project, titled the Alpha Assignments, was being assembled now to be passed on to the president. The files sitting before Hedges were Landy's suggestions for the members of the Alpha team and Hedges were sure they were all good ones. Now he stopped Landy by calling her name just as she reached the door. "Pam?"

"Yeah?" Landy said, turning back to look at him.

"Nice work," Hedges said, lifting a hand to his head in salute. Landy nodded once at him with a tired smile before leaving, shutting the door quietly behind her. Hedges smiled at the door for a moment before turning back to the file. He flipped the picture over and had just begun to skim the first page when the lights flickered and went out. Hedges froze, reaching beneath the desk for the handgun he kept hidden there. He had only used it twice in the gun range this month instead of his usual four but that didn't mean he wasn't capable of killing anyone looking to assassinate him.

Anthony Hedges wasn't exactly the most well liked Secretary of State. He was known for dealing straight with everyone and dealing harshly with those around him who lied to him. In result he had gained many enemies over the years and now would be a perfect time for someone to eliminate him. "Sir?" The guard opened the door slightly and poked his head in for a moment. "As you can see there's been a momentary power failure and since the backup generators are currently being updated it will be a few moments before the power retu-" The guard cut off mid sentence with a strangled noise, tumbling silently to the ground with a blade through his chest.

Hedges stood calmly, removing the gun from under his desk and firing two bullets straight into the heart of the first assailant. The second jumped over the dead body of the first attacker and the slumped frame of the guard only to be shot by another guard in the back of the head. That was when something crashed through the mostly bulletproof window to smack past Hedges' ribs and into his lungs. As the Secretary of State collapsed to his knees, wheezing wetly as blood flooded into one of his lungs, the second bullet blasted into his skull, killing him before he fully hit the floor.

* * *

**0112 hours-Arlington, Virginia, Apartment Complex**

She woke the instant the phone rang, sending a wave of noise through the pitch black apartment. It cut off in the middle of the second ring and Crystal tensed until two solid fist thumps against her wall reassured her that her mentor and roommate had answered the phone instead of someone cutting the lines. She had just relaxed under the covers, hand drifting away from the wickedly sharp knife underneath her pillow, when her door opened and a familiar hulking figure stepped into her room. "What is it?" she asked softly, and then wondered when he didn't respond right away if she'd said it in Arabic.

"Trouble," Jason Bourne replied a moment later. All thoughts of languages aside, Crystal sat up instantly, leaving the knife beneath the pillow.

"What kind of trouble?"

"Someone just assassinated Secretary of State Anthony Hedges," Bourne replied. "Landy just called to say they're trying to peg it on me."

"How soon will they be here?" Crystal demanded, standing to her full height of five foot six inches.

"Maybe an hour," Bourne replied.

"How soon are you leaving?"

"Ten minutes," Bourne answered, already heading for the door. "Stay out of custody." Crystal nodded once and then, without turning on a light, began digging through her dresser for fresh clothing. It was go time.


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's_ _Note:_ Thanks to _Starfire201_ (Glad you liked it!) for reviewing the last chapter! I own nothing of the Bourne movies of Transformers.

* * *

**0645 hours-NEST Home Base, Diego Garcia**

Captain William Lennox clutched his coffee cup tightly in both hands, cell phone pressed between his ear and shoulder. "Yes sir," he said over the phone to John Keller, his face pinched with stress. "I understand perfectly. I'll get a team together and we'll take care of it." He switched the now lukewarm cup of coffee to one hand and caught the phone with the other, snapping it shut to end the call. He shoved the phone into a pocket, coffee cup still in hand, and walked out of the kitchen and through the main living area into the early morning sunshine. The good thing about Diego Garcia was that even at six in the morning it was still warm enough to not have to worry about a coat. It was also one of the bad things about the base. Diego Garcia was always warm, making it hard to fall asleep on one of the frequent times that the air conditioners stopped working.

Lennox made his way down the path that led from the human barracks to the Autobot ones. He only paused outside the door to take a fortifying drink of his coffee before shoving open the human door and stepping inside. He glanced around the hanger at the still cars parked in the shadows. A silver Corvette Stingray near the door that had angled itself toward him when he stepped in was Sideswipe. His friend and brother in combat, Ironhide, was the massive black GMC Topkick and the silver Pontiac Solstice was the newly revived Jazz. The red and blue Peterbilt semi that began to shift up into the form of the Autobot leader, Optimus Prime, was next to him were the twin forms of Skids and Mudflap, each one a Toyota Prius. Then there was Jolt, a dark blue Chevrolet Volt, and Ratchet, a neon yellow Hummer H2 emergency vehicle. The only missing members of the Autobot team were Arcee, who had been killed during the battle with the Fallen and had yet to be repaired enough for the Matrix to revive, and Bumblebee, a yellow Camaro with black racing stripes who was Sam Witwicky's guardian.

"What is it Captain Lennox?" Optimus inquired as the others around him shifted into their usual form. Will ignored the question, too tired to talk for the time being, instead making his way over to the massive screen and flipping on the TV connection and searching through three channels to the correct news station. A tall female reported with dyed blonde hair in a massive pouf. She was standing outside the White House, microphone in hand.

"Thank you Janice," she said, obviously taking over from the woman in the control room. "The investigation is still ongoing about the murder of our Secretary of State, Anthony Hedges. Hedges was shot once in the back, rupturing a lung, and then a second time in the head, killing him."

The screen split in two now, showing a more seriously dressed woman in a neat button up shirt with soft brunette curls. "Does the government have in suspects?"

"Currently they are searching the tapes but the director of White House security is searching for public enemy number one, Jason Bourne," the blonde woman replied. "For those of you who don't remember, Bourne vanished two months ago after assassinating several government agents involved in a project known as Blackbriar."

"Thank you Ashley," the brunette woman said and the screen turned back to her. Lennox muted the TV, taking another gulp of his coffee before speaking.

"As you just saw, last night the secretary of state was murdered," he said. "No one can find any evidence about who killed him but they suspect Jason Bourne, a former government agent who went rogue three years ago and has become rather famous. We thought he was dead for six months along with former psychologist Nicolette Parsons until someone spotted he and Parsons on camera near Arlington, Virginia four days ago. That's why he's suddenly become a suspect."

"What does that have to do with us?" Ironhide rumbled.

"After the Egyptian incident Keller thinks it would be best to promote a good view of governments working with NEST so he's assigned us to track down the truth about this," Will explained.

"How soon does he wish us to start?" Optimus asked quickly, silencing any coming protests.

"He wants us to fly out to Arlington today."

* * *

**1245 hours-Arlington Virginia, Apartment Complex**

The government agents actually took longer to show up at their apartment than Bourne had guessed. Maybe it was because they weren't Blackbriar agents that would have checked all the surrounding cameras around the one that had caught he and Nikki on tape instead of searching the general area by foot or maybe because they were busy searching for some kind of evidence from the killer. Crystal didn't know the reason but she did know that it was a quarter til one when the knock came at the door. She stood casually and walked to the door, pulling it partially open with the chain still attached. "Yes?"

"Ma'am please open the door. We have a warrant to search the apartment." So they had checked the cameras finally.

"Can I see it?" Crystal questioned, pulled the chain off and opening the door to scan the document when the man from the SWAT team produced it. She didn't read long, only til she got to the part that allowed the team to take anyone in the apartment into custody. That was when she slammed the door in the face of the man, ripping the paper down the middle and whirling to sprint toward Bourne's room. She practically flew into the room, snatching the handgun from the bed and attaching the holster with fingers that shook with adrenalin. Then she swung the loaded backpack over her shoulder and shoved the window open, kicking open the screen out just as she heard the sound of the reinforced door Bourne had installed when they moved in being kicked in.

She didn't bother looking down, simply jumping out and landing crouched in the bush below the window. They lived on the second floor of a squat three floor apartment so it wasn't a far jump to the ground. Quickly she retrieved the massive Duke sweatshirt she had dropped out the window earlier that morning and pulled it on over the backpack, pulling up the hood and hurrying to the sidewalk, joining the crowd gaping at the cordoned off apartment complex.


	3. Chapter 3

**1450 hours-Washington D. C.**

The streets of Washington D.C. were packed with midafternoon traffic, though not as jam packed as they would have been around lunch time. The sidewalks were equally crowded, allowing Crystal to easily blend in with the crowds. The Duke sweatshirt had been ditched close to an hour ago in a public restroom along with the top she had been wearing when she'd answered the door earlier in the day. Now she was dressed in blue jeans and a pale blue t-shirt. Her long brown hair was pulled up in a high ponytail and her sneakers were just worn enough to avoid any suspicious glances. Her wallet, tucked in her pocket, said her name was Elizabeth Taylor and her story was that she was vacationing in the nation's capitol for a week from Tampa, Florida.

The cover was good. The knapsack on her back could have easily carried some water bottles and a map of two in case she got lost. Her clothing was casual and being a Florida native explained her tan. On the outside, where most people looked, it made sense but if anyone cared to look closer they might have noticed something was wrong. For example Crystal's hint of an accent didn't mark her as someone down south. Instead it pegged her as a native of the north, far north, and despite all her work she was still unable to entirely shake it. Her walk was too controlled and she didn't gawk like the rest of the tourists out around her. Furthermore she knew Washington D.C. far too well to simply be visiting.

A flash of silver caught her eye and despite her instinct to ignore it and keep walking because it was too large to be a weapon she turned with the rest of the crowd. The vehicle in question was a shiny silver Pontiac Solstice, the latest model, and it had gathered plenty of attention. Through the heavily tinted window Crystal could just barely make out a man's form in the driver's seat as he waited for traffic to continue to move. Behind the Solstice was a monster of a truck, an in-your-face GMC Topkick painted pitch black and with a little dust around the tires despite the impression of being recent washed and waxed. Even for D.C. splendor the vehicles were a little flashy. They set alarms bells off in Crystal's head as she slowly backed further into the gaping crowd. They were breaking the law of too much; too clean, too flashy, and the driver's too still to be anything but trouble.

Turning her back on the cars, Crystal made her way down a slim alley between two shops and on to another crowded sidewalk. She slowly allowed herself to scan the street, watching for any sign of more unnatural cars. For a moment there was nothing. Then the flash of red and blue paint on a semi, a _semi_ in the middle of busy downtown Washington D.C., driving down the street. She backed up again, heading for the alley, and was snatched from behind.

Instantly Crystal rammed her foot and head back, aiming for ankle and throat. She connected with the throat but not with the ankle and despite the power behind the blows it didn't make any difference as she was lifted off her feet. Crystal did the only thing she could think of then; she let out an ear piercing shriek that drew all attention away from the strange sight of a semi towards her. Instantly she was dropped. Crystal didn't bother to look back as she stumbled into the crowd that swirled protectively around her and, as soon as possible, took off sprinting down a neighboring street. She planned to be long gone by the time the guy who had grabbed her managed to explain what was going on.

* * *

**1500 hours-Washington D.C.**

Ironhide retreated, cursing under his breath as he went, as Optimus and Lennox stepped forward to deal with an angry crowd. "What do you think?" he muttered to Jazz, still lurking in the shadows.

"Ah told ya not ta grab her," came the amused reply. "The agents told us they didn't know anything and Ah told ya she wasn't a complete novice." Ironhide just growled in response scanning the shrinking crowd for someone Jazz knew was already long gone.


	4. Chapter 4

**1700 hours- Washington Base of** **Operations**

"I want all eyes on the street," a voice snapped through the din of keyboards clacking. Flickering screens showed the streets of Washington D.C. thick with stopped cars and slow moving pedestrians. "I want an APB out on one Crystal Yates."

"Ah wouldn't do that if Ah were you," Jazz interrupted. Agent in charge of local operations, David Monroe, turned to shoot an impatient glare at the hologram.

"And why not?" he demanded impatiently. Monroe was in charge of DC safety. That meant he tracked down area serial killers and psychos on a regular basis. He knew that the fastest way to find someone was to send out an APB and get local police stations looking for the psycho of the day.

"Because she'll vanish," Jazz said, glaring back at Monroe through his sunglasses. "She an' Bourne ain't yer garden variety killers. They're chameleons. They operate by blending in. The moment she sense the police on her tail you'll never see her again."

"So what are you suggesting I do?" Monroe snapped. "Just wait for her to show up and kill someone else?"

"No," Jazz snapped back. "Use your brain. She won't be taking an airplane or train out of the city. Too many cameras for you to look at. Buses are too slow and too confined. Her only options are to walk or hotwire a car. Watch the car lots and my friends and I will scan the streets. If she's out there, we'll find her." Monroe nodded once in approval.

* * *

**1700 hours-Washington D.C.**

The evening crowd moved slowly down the street and Crystal walked with them, keeping a wary eye on the street. Every time she saw a flash of silver or black her heart would leap into her throat only to slow down again when she saw it was just another dull car. She had five minutes before she was supposed to make contact with Bourne. She turned left on to another street and joined a cue waiting in line at a small cafe. Once she reached the front of the line she ordered a hot chocolate and inquired about a public phone.

"There's one on the far wall," the tired young woman who took her order said. Crystal thanked her, took her hot chocolate, and headed for the phone. She pulled the scrap of paper that Bourne had scribbled the number on, brought the phone card out of her shoe, stuck it in, and dialed. It rang twice and then abruptly silenced.

"Line's clean," Crystal said softly. "I'm at the coffee shop we cleared." Then she waited.

"I'm in the airport at Bangladesh," Bourne said after a moment. "I'm heading for a bus stop from here. The new number ends in 5594." Then came the click of the phone hanging up. Crystal hung up as well, heading for the street. She kept one eye on the traffic crawling by, another on the people around her. It was exhausting and she was sure she was missing some things. Bourne would be calling her work sloppy but at this point she was tired enough not to care.

She cut a corner short, almost slamming into a building, and glanced as casually over her shoulder as she could. No sign of any followers, at least not yet, and the number of cops on the street was standard. Still she had the feeling that she needed to get out of here. Maybe it was just standard paranoia but she felt as if the walls were closing in on her. She forced herself to stroll casually into a parking garage, waving a little at the attendant who smiled and waved back. She forced herself to keep that casual pace, even though her heart was trying to beat its way out of her chest, until she was out of sight of the attendant. Then she picked up the pace.

Crystal knew that she only had a limited amount of time before someone on that FBI squad picked her up entering the concrete structure. By then she had to be out and as far away as possible. Ideally that would have involved cutting the power but after her close call earlier in the day she didn't truly believe she had very much time. She climbed the stairs to the second level and made her way along row after row of glossy cars, looking for one that was fairly inconspicuous. Three minutes later she was hotwiring a black Honda Civic after picking the lock on the door and removing the license plate. Anything to slow the feds down. The clock is ticking down when Crystal pulled out of the parking garage, resisting the urge to punch the pedal to the floor and roar out with tires squealing. Next stop, Langley.


End file.
